


Erômenos

by bexpls



Series: Erômenos [1]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Morse, First Time, M/M, Pre-Canon, gay anthony donn, morse is totally a straight man, samuel barnett has never played a straight man in his life, totally is canon though, university era-morse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22683538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexpls/pseuds/bexpls
Summary: “Women are too much like hard work,” murmurs Morse eventually.“I quite agree,” says Anthony, stifling a yawn.“I think I’m off them,” says Morse, reaching over the back of the chair to tug lightly at Anthony’s hair.“Very sensible.”After his relationship with Susan comes to a painful end, Morse looks to Anthony Donn for company. And other things.
Relationships: Anthony Donn/Endeavour Morse
Series: Erômenos [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811830
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	Erômenos

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I just lost my smut-writing virginity.

Anthony Donn knows he’s just a rebound shag, but he isn’t exactly complaining.

Look, he’s Morse’s best friend, and that means going through all the various stages of Morse’s grief with him. The crying. The drinking. The half-hearted suicide attempt which involves a blackout drunk Morse trying to climb over the side of a bridge while Anthony tugs on his leg.

He knows the next stage, historically, is finding someone to fuck you until you forget your pain, even if just for a moment. He really didn’t imagine it’d be him fucking Morse.

Come on. It’s _Oxford_. It’s a university full of homosexuals. It’s genuinely rarer to find someone who _isn’t_ interested in men than someone who is, including those who’ll settle for either. Sure, it’s illegal, but the police aren’t about to turn around and arrest the entire student body. It’s just one of those things.

But Anthony always thought Morse was as straight as they come. He always had his eye on some girl or other, until he and Susan became a couple. Anthony was wholeheartedly _not_ , but Morse was fully aware of that fact and it had never seemed to perturb him. He had his girl and that was all that mattered to him.

Until he didn’t anymore.

The fact of the matter is that technically, _he_ had been _her_ rebound shag. After she ended it with that professor, she fished around for potential men for a bit, and since Morse showed his interest in no uncertain terms she chose him. Only, afterwards, he was so charming that he convinced her to stick around.

He’s good at that. For someone as socially awkward and out of place as he is, he can be very charming when he wants to be.

Anthony has always thought so, anyway. He’s had a bit of a crush on Morse since the moment they met, but he has never acted upon it because of Morse’s presumed heterosexuality. And it isn’t like there’s a lack of potential men for him. Oh no.

He isn’t quite sure about the heterosexuality thing anymore.

Morse drinks for three days straight after Susan leaves him for the professor, missing all of his tutorials and barely leaving his rooms except to buy more alcohol. Anthony sticks with him the whole time. Morse sleeps through the mornings, wakes around two or three o’clock, and starts on his wine collection. When the pub opens, he drags Anthony straight there. Anthony wonders where he’s getting all the money to buy the drinks from - Morse isn’t rich by anyone’s standards.

But he continues drinking until the evening of the third day, when he takes Anthony by the hand and leads him out of the Lamb and Flag ages before closing time, which is a rarity even under normal circumstances. He vaguely says something about feeling ill and wanting to go to bed. Anthony isn’t complaining; after the few days he’s had, he rather wants to go to bed too.

They stop a few streets before reaching the gates of Lonsdale College for Morse to unceremoniously vomit into a bush, which is a good thing; if the alcohol isn’t still in his system he’ll feel better in the morning. At college they have to climb over the gate to get inside, which is usual. Once inside the building Morse quite literally falls into bed, fully clothed, and Anthony retires to his room on the other side of the staircase.

* * *

Anthony wakes up at some ungodly hour to a loud knocking on his door. It stops, and Anthony considers pretending he didn’t hear it. But it starts again, more urgently. He sighs. Morse, he shouldn’t wonder. He reluctantly drags himself out of bed and over to the door.

He opens it and of course it is Morse, still in the clothes he was wearing during the day. He comes in without an invitation, making his way over to the pair of armchairs that they sometimes sit in together. Instead of sitting down, he leans on the back of one of them. Anthony sighs again. He follows Morse and switches on the lamp in the corner of the room before sitting in the chair that Morse is leaning against.

Morse doesn’t say anything. Nor does Anthony. He’s barely awake, so tired he can hardly keep his eyes open. Unless Morse starts a conversation soon he’ll be dozing off here in the armchair.

“Women are too much like hard work,” murmurs Morse eventually.

“I quite agree,” says Anthony, stifling a yawn.

“I think I’m off them,” says Morse, reaching over the back of the chair to tug lightly at Anthony’s hair.

“Very sensible.”

“You seem to have it all right.”

Anthony shrugs. “There can be a certain romance to it. The subterfuge, you know - stealing glances across the pub, brushing hands as you pass each other in the quad. But it can be sad, of course. Not being able to put your arm around them in public.”

“I think it sounds perfect,” says Morse. He pushes himself up and comes round the side of the chair, draping himself over it until he’s practically lying in Anthony’s lap.

It’s only at this moment when the mists of sleep finally lift and Anthony realises what’s happening.

“Morse, you’re -“ He stops. He was going to say, ‘Morse, you’re drunk’, but looking at his face Anthony doesn’t think he is anymore. His eyes are bright and sharp, only the barest hint of drunken glaze left.

They’re in extremely awkward position where Anthony is essentially trapped under Morse, who’s lying like a plank of wood across him, his head resting against the arm of the chair. His right hand is resting, possibly accidentally, in a compromising place at the top of Anthony’s pyjama-clad legs. Anthony’s arms are pinned underneath Morse. He can feel himself growing hotter as they look into each other’s faces.

 _This is not a good thing_.

Morse moves so fast, so suddenly, that Anthony actually flinches back because he thinks they’re going to bang heads. But Morse is apparently in good practise, and on target. Their mouths meet, perfectly aligned, and Anthony doesn’t even really have to do anything except let it happen. All he can think about is Morse’s tongue ravaging the inside of his mouth. It’s all he can do to keep breathing.

Morse shifts position, bringing his legs up from the side of the chair and pulling himself upright until he’s kneeling on the wide chair with one leg on either side of Anthony. His hands now free, Anthony wraps his arms around Morse’s waist, pulling him closer. Morse responds by running his hands through Anthony’s hair.

So much for this not being a good thing, thinks Anthony, while he still has the capacity for semi-rational thought.

Morse breaks away after an age and sits back, Anthony’s hands falling back to his sides. His lips are wet and he’s breathing heavily. It’s probably the hottest thing Anthony has ever seen.

“Morse,” says Anthony gently.

“Anthony,” replies Morse.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Morse reaches down slowly, deliberately, and cups Anthony’s cock in his hand through his trousers. “Are _you_ sure you want to do this?”

“Well, when you put it like that.” He reaches forwards and grabs Morse by the waist again, pulling him towards him for another kiss.

They content themselves with that for a further minute, until Anthony takes some initiative and starts to move down Morse’s neck. He wants to use his teeth, make marks of ownership on Morse’s skin, but he has the feeling Morse wouldn’t appreciate that in the morning. Instead, he continues down to the hollow of Morse’s pale neck between the protrusions of his collarbone.

Morse, meanwhile, is grappling with his tie, clumsy in his haste to get it off. He finally manages it and slings it across the room. When Anthony has to move away briefly to allow Morse to take the tie over his head, Morse takes the opportunity to take Anthony by the chin and direct him towards his mouth again.

There’s a certain urgency to the way Morse kisses. To say he’s like a starving man finally getting food would be a cliché, as well as incorrect - it can’t be that long since he last kissed Susan. No, he doesn’t kiss like he’s starving; he kisses like he knows one day he’ll never kiss again, and he’s trying to get as much of it as possible while he still can. He’s pushing his tongue to the back of Anthony’s throat, then pulling back to suck on his lips, determined to do all of the work himself.

Needless to say Anthony is enjoying himself immensely.

He realises that while he’s been distracted with Morse’s mouth, Morse has started to unbutton his pyjama shirt. When it’s fully open, Anthony fights to get his arms free of the damn thing and throws it onto the floor. Morse groans and starts to kiss Anthony’s chest, moving down to his stomach, wriggling lowers and lower down the armchair to get into a better position. By now Anthony is getting very hard, and despite the fact that the foreplay has only been going on for five minutes at the most, he’s growing impatient.

As Morse descends past his hips, Anthony suddenly finds himself hoping Morse knows what he’s doing.

Morse grips the seams of Anthony’s pyjama bottoms and pulls them past his hips and arse, giving up once they reach his knees to take Anthony’s cock in both hands. Anthony kicks out limply to get the trousers fully off as Morse begins to move one hand up and down, while the other snakes upwards to touch Anthony on his stomach, his chest, neck, everywhere. He looks about ready to go all the way when Anthony suddenly notices his free hand abandoning Anthony’s body to move down towards his own trousers.

Anthony moves his leg to halt Morse’s hand. Morse looks up at him, confused.

“That’s my job,” Anthony says.

Morse seems to understand and moves his hand back to rest on one of Anthony’s hips. He finally - _finally_ \- takes Anthony’s cock in his mouth. Anthony shudders with the feeling, lets his head roll back against the armchair.

It’s not just the sex, though _God_ it feels good, it’s the fact that it’s Morse. He really has wanted Morse since the second he laid eyes on him over two years ago, on the day they both moved in. Anthony remembers the moment as clear as anything: his mother moving past the door with a box of Anthony’s books to reveal the thin eighteen year old with hair like fire, carrying two battered suitcases up the stairs by himself. Anthony has always wanted Morse; he just hadn’t realised quite how much until he actually feels Morse’s sharp, perfect mouth around him.

After a few seconds of eternity have passed, Morse pulls away and stares up at Anthony open-mouthed, gasping. By this point he’s kneeling down on the floor in front of the armchair. He looks small and lost, somehow. Like he’s forgotten what the next step is.

This is something that Anthony is very happy to remind him of.

It hasn’t escaped his notice that he’s completely naked while Morse is still fully clothed. He wraps his legs around Morse’s waist and pulls him close, groaning when he feels Morse’s hardness on his thigh. It’s all he can do not to go against his own advice and finish himself off, but he keeps his hands busy by unbuttoning Morse’s second-hand cream shirt, all the time while Morse is kissing him.

The sight of Morse without a shirt on is heaven. Anthony unfurls his legs and stands up, taking Morse with him. They stand intertwined for a few moments, kissing. Morse’s hand brushes against Anthony’s cock once or twice. but eventually he buries his face in Anthony's neck and groans:

“Christ, my turn, _please_.”

Anthony relents and starts to rub Morse through the fabric of his trousers. Morse moans, the sound coming straight from the pit of his stomach. He fumbles with his buttons while Anthony touches him all over his pale, hot skin. At the moment when Morse is finally undressed, Anthony takes his face in both hands and kisses him for all he’s worth.

“ _Anthony!_ ”

Anthony moves on hand down and starts to rub Morse off slowly, listening to the sound of Morse’s breathing against his neck. This is his time to shine, this is what he’s good at: taking men and ravishing them till they don’t remember their names. He wants to show Morse what he’s been missing all these years.

He only realises he’s going too far when Morse cries out, loudly, and he thinks he’s ruined it. But no, Morse is only getting carried away with himself, he hasn’t came yet. Anthony drags him over to the bed and pushes him onto it, positioning himself carefully on top of Morse. He takes Morse’s cock in his mouth gently. Morse moans again and starts raking his fingers through Anthony’s hair.

“Anthony, fuck me, Anthony, oh God.”

“What do you think I’m doing?” mutters Anthony, pulling away for a moment to suck on his own fingers. When he returns his mouth to its proper place and pushes two fingers into Morse’s arse, Morse nearly screams.

“Christ, Morse,” says Anthony, pulling away again. He keeps his fingers where they are, carefully pushing them in and out while he moves his mouth up Morse’s body. Morse doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself; his eyes are closed, arms limp by his sides, hips bucking reflexively. He’s moaning the same three words in a loop: _Anthony, God, fuck._

Anthony kisses the curves of Morse’s hips, pauses to dedicate some time to his perfect stomach and chest, and it’s only when he reaches Morse’s mouth that Morse gasps again and says:

“Anthony, quickly, _please_.”

“All right,” says Anthony, delivering a final kiss to his lips, before moving back down the bed to help Morse get into a better position.

Clearly, despite all Anthony’s best intentions, he’s misjudged the situation. For most of the other men he’s slept with, it wasn’t their first time. He guesses that Morse has even surprised himself with the speed of the whole affair. He’s inside Morse for less than thirty seconds, hand around Morse’s cock, before Morse whimpers and comes. Fortunately, Anthony is close himself, and he finishes a couple of seconds later, pulling himself out with a sigh.

Not his best performance. But Morse seems happy enough.

He’s obviously spent, turning his face into the pillow with a groan. Anthony wipes them both down quickly with the bedsheets before snuggling up next to him, wrapping an arm around him. Morse takes his hand.

“Thank you,” he whispers into the pillow.

“Pleasure was all mine, I’m sure,” says Anthony. Barely a few seconds later he hears Morse’s breathing grow quieter as he falls asleep in Anthony Donn’s bed.

Yes, thinks Anthony, as he nestles his face into Morse’s neck. As far as rebound shags go, he’s pretty sure there have been worse.


End file.
